


Putting Out The Fire

by SlytherinScarf



Category: Amazingphil & Danisnotonfire RPF, Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cancer, Gen, Hospitals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:51:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinScarf/pseuds/SlytherinScarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Danisnotonfire/Dan Howell and kind of AmazingPhil/Phil Lester fanfic. It's mostly OC, though. Tessa has cancer, and she probably isn't going to live. But when she stumbles across two of her idols in her hospital, is that all about to change? DISCLAIMER: I don't own any people or companies mentioned, but the fanfiction and any people or events created are mine.  Enjoy! *this is also on fanfic.net*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Putting Out The Fire

I take a deep breath, and stare at myself in the mirror, for what is possibly the last time before I leave. I stare at my dark brown eyes, my shaped lips and my slightly too rounded nose. But, just like everyone else’s, my eyes are eventually drawn to the top of my head, and the shiny skin that now occupies the space where my dark brown, almost black hair used to grow from. But that had fallen out long ago, and still hasn’t grown back, thanks to the endless rounds of chemotherapy.  
I feel sad as I step into the taxi, lugging my suitcase in behind me. I will miss being in my cousin’s house in Herefordshire. I like the countryside and have been dreading going back to London for days. Hereford already feels like my home, with the rolling green hills, apple orchards and huge rivers you can sail down on a warm day. I’ve only been here for six months, but I can barely remember what London was like. Ever since I had been diagnosed with kidney cancer three years ago, everything just passed in a blur. It was just endless chemotherapy, diets and pills. I finished school; after all, what’s the point anymore? It was fine at first, because anyone can live with just one kidney, but by the time they got around to the surgery, my other (my right) kidney was infected. Both tumours can’t be removed, and if I don’t get an organ donation, there is nothing they can do. And it doesn’t look like I’m going to get one. They can’t even find a compatible match in my parents, my half-sister or my cousins.   
My parents sent me to stay with my cousins for ‘a change of scenery’, but I knew it was either a last attempt at curing me with ‘fresh country air’, or they just wanted me to spend time with the rest of my family before I offed it. I’ve got a year left at the very, very least, according to my doctors, but you never know, right?  
Anyway, I can’t sleep on the journey, even though it’s a four-hour ride and must be costing Dad a fortune. I don’t sleep very much anymore; it scares me. I’ve had nightmares, really bad ones, ever since I first found out about the tumour. They’re the kind where you wake up in the night, sweating and screaming, and you can’t remember why.  
*  
I finally arrive at my destination – Great Ormond Street Hospital. My doctor referred me here for some cryo-therapy, whatever the hell that is, and I’m staying here for two weeks, just to see if I react to it well. From what I understood, they try and freeze the tumours somehow, to stop them growing, or at least slow them down (probably while they try and find a compatible kidney). But my doctor said that if nothing happens within the first few sessions, nothing is going to happen from then onwards. I haven’t said it out loud yet, but I’m so past the point of caring anymore. They’re just delaying the inevitable. We’re all dying, just some of us at quicker rates than others. I don’t see what the big deal is.  
I walk into reception and see my dad standing there waiting for me. He’s short, only slightly taller than my Mum, and that’s basically where our resemblance ends – I look nothing like him. My mother once used to have hair like mine, and she has a similar nose, but I never see it when people say I look just like her. Not that they say that much, anymore. Not after she stormed out three years ago, and didn’t look back until she discovered I was dying.  
“Hi Tessa,” he says, looking at me as though I’m an injured animal. I answer his question, before he even asks it. I know the routine.  
“I’m fine Dad, really. You should go now,” I say, hugging him.  
“Are you sure honey?” He asks, embracing me back, “Because I’m sure I can take a day off work, and I rea-“  
I cut him off midsentence and step away. “Dad, please. I’ll call you if I need anything, but I think I should probably just get settled in,” I say, making up the first crap that comes into my head, just to get him to leave me alone.  
“Okay, I love you. I’ll text tonight.”  
“I love you too,” I reply, as a nurse ushers me towards a set of double doors. I can tell we’re both keen to get out of here.  
*  
I’ve been sitting in my plain hospital room for several hours now. I’ve got a private room, which makes a nice change from the noisy, messy kids’ ward I usually end up stuck in. I can also sing really badly to whatever I want without another kid throwing something at me. It’s a bit lonely, though, surrounded by white bed sheets and matching walls, but that doesn’t bother me so much. I’ve always preferred the internet to real life anyway.  
I’m just scrolling down my Tumblr dashboard when two familiar faces pass my door. I jump out of my bed, unsure if my eyes are tricking me, but I open the door just to check. It looks about right. Two dark-haired guys wearing skinny jeans, the taller one wearing a My Chemical Romance t-shirt. I start to run towards them.   
“Dan?! Phil?!” I exclaim.   
Both the men turn, startled. I was right!   
Then it hits me. I am standing in front of danisnotonfire and AmazingPhil, two of the awesomest people on YouTube. I’m about to run towards them and hug them, or go fan girl crazy, when I noticed that Dan’s eyes are red raw from crying, and Phil’s arm is hung around his shoulder, protectively.  
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” I say.  
I back away slowly, unsure what to do, before I turn and just walk back into my room. I sit on my bed, shocked. How can I have been so stupid?


End file.
